Page 58 of Five
As if Oscar can sense my hesitation, he gently takes matters into his own hands. Sitting forwards, he kisses the side of my neck, making me shiver, and runs his finger over my bare shoulder. “I think you’re overdressed,” he whispers, toying with the sleeves of my dress until I nod in agreement, giving him the consent he needs to continue.
He pushes one strap down, then the other, his lips following the same route. “Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice husky with emotion.
“You know I do,” I tell him, leaning back to look into his eyes. They’re dark with a tightly held passion, and I suddenly realize that I want him to let go. I want to see him abandon that firmly held control and know it’s because I’ve done that to him.
“Show me.” I throw the challenge back to him, and Oz, being the man he is, runs with it.
In a flurry of movement my dress is over my head, and Oz’s large, tanned hands are on my breasts, his fingers plucking at the aching nubs while he nips at that sensitive crease where my neck meets my shoulder.
I tip my head to one side to give him better access and the movement thrusts my chest closer, tempting him to move down, across my collarbone, over the swell of my breasts until he sucks a pouting nipple into his hot mouth. I gasp at the pleasure that steals through me.
“Oh, God, yes!” It feels like every sexual encounter in my life pales into insignificance compared with what’s happening now.
My head falls back and my eyes close as I give myself over to the magic he’s weaving through my body, but it isn’t long before I want more.
I curl my fingers into his waistband, feeling for the button and freeing it before fumbling for the zipper, but there’s too little space between us to do anything more.
Sensing my frustration, Oz pulls his mouth from my nipple with a wet popping sound and grips my waist. “Raise up,” he instructs, even though he’s already as good as lifting me. As soon as there’s enough room for him to maneuver, he tilts his pelvis and roughly pushes both his pants and his boxers down his thighs, but he doesn’t get them past his knees before I give in to the temptation to grasp his thick, hard cock which is standing at attention against his abdomen like it’s saluting me.
He hisses out a breath as I wrap my fingers around his girth. He feels like silk over steel and my mouth waters, wanting a taste of him.
There’s a bead of precum on the tip, and I rub my thumb through it, spreading the viscous fluid all over his satiny head.
His grip on my waist tightens and Oz throws his head back and groans. “God, what you’re doing to me, woman!” The words are hissed out through gritted teeth, and I am filled with an uncharacteristic boldness.
“I want you, now.”
Did those words really fall from my lips?
They must have, because Oz’s fingers twist in the elastic of my panties and the fabric rends as he rips it away.
God! Why is that so hot?
Then there are no more barriers between us, and I take him greedily in my hand as I fumble to line him up with my entrance.
“Fuck…I don’t have a condom.” He holds me away from him, and I want to scream.
“Are you clean?” I pant, frustration making the words clipped.
“Of course. We have to do regular testing on the force.”
I nod once. “I have an IUD.”
It’s his turn to trust me now. His eyes find mine and cling for a moment. A thousand words are communicated in those few seconds, but the last expression I acknowledge is a passion fueled acceptance. And then he’s lowering me, slowly, carefully onto his hard length, stretching me with his girth despite how wet and willing I am, and it feels freaking incredible.
When I’m finally sat astride him, with Oz impaled deeper than I’ve ever felt any man, I tip my forehead against his and simply luxuriate in the experience. I feel so full, his thick heat pulsing inside me.
I can’t stay still any longer and rotate my pelvis in a slow, experimental circle. The feeling is sublime. He’s hitting parts of me I’ve never been aware of before.
Oz allows me to experiment for a few minutes, but I can feel the impatience growing in the rigid way he’s holding his body, and I know he’s ready to explode.
“Neve…” he grunts. He doesn’t need to say any more.
He’s so damned considerate, pushing aside his own base instincts to make sure I’m ready. But right now, I just want to relinquish control and have him take over.
I don’t want sweet and gentle. I want his passion. I want to lose myself in the wild ride I know he’s capable of giving me.
Giving us both.
